


Lame

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Fluff & Angst [31]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, non-graphic injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 22:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8226811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Kylo doesn't want Hux to know quite what happened on the mission.





	

Kylo doesn’t want anyone to see him weak. To be weak is to be vulnerable. To be vulnerable is to be at risk. It is to be worth _less_ , and only a short aspiration away from _worthless_. And therein lies a whole solar system of things he does not want to be.

Which means, as he comes back onboard, he puts every effort into appearing fine. His stride is slightly shortened as he forces his ankle not to buckle underneath him, and he is grateful for the mask so he can grimace in pain where no one can see to judge.

He’d landed poorly. Which was his own fault. He’d been trying to juggle too many things at once: to keep the bolts from landing on any of them, to read action and impulse, to deflect blunt force… and his weight had gone beyond the edge of his flexibility. Sometimes he _forgot_ how tall he was, and today was one of those days. 

Kylo brushes past everyone, making short work of his return back to his - _their_ \- quarters. 

Hux is not due back for some time, so he pulls his boot off with a low whimper. His ankle is already starting to swell, and he has to ice it and bind it quickly, before he can’t get the boot back on and it’s obvious what he’s–

“I _knew it_.”

Kylo looks up, then cringes. “It’s not what you–”

“You’re hurt. You damn fool.”  


How did he know? Kylo scratches at Hux’s mind, wanting to know what gave him away.

“You know you could just **ask**.” Hux storms inside, and slaps Kylo’s hands away, gingerly easing his foot from the boot and pulling down his sock to investigate.  


“…so?”  


“You haven’t asked.”  


Kylo rolls his eyes. He doesn’t want to say it aloud. He won’t say it aloud.

“I had to walk slower to keep pace with you, on the way back to the elevator, you idiot.”  


“I could have been tired.”  


“You don’t even like admitting that,” Hux says. 

His fingers don’t hurt where they touch, so Kylo is relieved that it’s likely not actually a break. He sits back on the couch as Hux grabs the ice pack, strapping it tightly around and then pulling his limb upwards, from under the calf.  


“I’ve got to–”  


“You’re staying right here for the rest of the night,” Hux insists, grabbing a cushion to elevate his leg. “I’m going to scan it for damage, and then I’m going to force-feed you pain meds and hold your damn fool mouth shut if I have to until you swallow them.”  


Kylo’s eyes widen in horror. Pain meds are for weak people. Kylo is not weak people. (Even if it’s hurting so much now that even the ice is a torture, a throbbing that pulses in counterpoint to his heart, a low blur of unpleasant sensation it’s impossible to ignore.) “Hux–”

“You’re. Sitting. Here. For the rest of the night.”  


“I can’t.”  


“Who is in control of this ship - and all her souls?”  


All her _soles_. He can’t help but think of the terrible joke, even as Hux’s fists go to his hips in indignant assurance. 

“I have too much to do.”

“You can rest for a _night_. While I get the required things to patch you up again. I bet you’ve been running around on it, making it worse, since it happened.”  


Well, he _had_ wanted to remain alive, and running _had_ been useful in that respect, so yes. He cowers slightly as Hux - on his full warpath - storms around with all the efficiency of a universal law. He gathers more medical supplies than Kylo would have used on himself. Scanner, meds, bandages. 

He’s sure Hux has been researching medical practices. Kylo doesn’t let himself get injured much (okay, so maybe sometimes he does), but Hux is normally the one who manages to force him to tend to his wounds. Left to his own devices… he’d be left to his own devices.

Leaning back on the armrest, he submits to the ministrations, refusing to hiss or gasp because - damnit - it’s his _fault_ he’s hurt, he doesn’t get to complain. Hux’s hands tremble only slightly, and Kylo feels the alarm building in him.

When his lover rises, he reaches to grab for his shirt sleeve.

Hux looks up, and then shakes his head and turns it away.

“ _Please_ ,” Kylo whispers.  


“I’m worried one day it’ll be too much,” Hux admits, his face still averted, his words… sharp and sore.   


“It won’t be.”  


“You say that now.”  


He pulls again, and doesn’t let go until Hux relents and perches on the very edge of the couch. 

Kylo wraps his arms around his waist, and hoists him to his chest. It’s awkward, with his leg sticking out at an odd angle, but Hux is still stiff and unrelenting in his grip.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, below his ear.  


Hux reaches one hand behind his head, to Kylo’s, curling around and holding tight. “Just come home in roughly one piece. Okay? Promise me you’ll do that.”

“I promise, as long as there’s breath in me, I will crawl back to you on my bloodied hands and knees.”  


“ _That’s what I’m worried about_ ,” Hux complains, and then grips his hair harder.  


Kylo still thinks he should suffer, but seeing Hux hurt… is pain he can’t handle. “I promise,” he says, again. “I’ll be better.”

“I just want you _safe_.”  


Maybe it will be easier, if he thinks it’s for Hux, not himself? He can only hope so. “I will. I will.” He _will_.


End file.
